Conflicting Missions
by torchestogether
Summary: After the destruction of the Triskelion, the Winter Soldier has been on the run. Steve Rogers recruits two people to find him, but it is no easy task. Eleanor will find herself in a precarious situation as it becomes clear that the mission she was sent on is not the mission the Winter Soldier has in store for her.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

* * *

It was out of character for Sam Wilson to miss a morning run. It was even more out of character for him to not answer his phone or let her know why he missed their daily routine of meeting in front of the Lincoln Memorial. For the entire three years that the two had known each other, this was the first time anything even remotely like this happened. Sam was almost annoyingly on time, a remnant of his time in the military, he always said. He was often the more responsible of the two, so when he was nowhere to be found, Eleanor knew it was more than Sam blowing her off or sleeping through his alarm.

After a few hours, the irritation subsided into something more akin to worry. None of her texts had been answered and Eleanor couldn't push away the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that bordered on foreboding. This feeling was the reason she found herself standing in front of Sam's door, hand about to knock on the glass when it opened before her knuckles made contact. Her hand hovered in midair, eyes narrowing at Sam who looked shockingly guilty.

"I know, I know," Sam sighed, "Come on, I'll explain as much as I can, but you have to come inside." He looked over her shoulder, scanning the area for some unknown threat. Before she could turn to see what he was worried about, Sam pulled her in and shut the door, pulling the blinds down with a loud snap.

"I'm glad to see you're alive," Eleanor joked, suddenly self-conscious for worrying over him when he was clearly fine. She spied an overstuffed dufflebag waiting by the door. Next to it, an intimidating metal pack was propped against the wall. "Though how long you might stay that way, I don't know. I didn't know you were back with the military again. I thought you were done with that."

Eleanor knew all about Sam's past with the military and his unit. She had listened to all the tales of his secret experimental group who used mechanical wings to perform high risk operations using stealth and speed. She knew about his friend, Riley, who had been killed during one of their missions; the one that Sam still grieved for years later. It was hard to mask the surprise at the idea that he might be getting involved with that again after what he had been through.

"Not the military," Sam started, "El, you have to promise to never speak about this to anyone. No one can know where I'm going or what I'm doing, do you understand?" The pleading tone was enough to make her worry skyrocket.

"Of course I won't tell anyone. Just tell me what's going on. Are you in trouble? Is this about what happened at the Triskelion a few weeks ago? Those people, Hydra, have they threatened you?" she rambled, tugging at the ends of her dark hair. It was a habit that always snuck out whenever she was especially nervous.

Sam motioned for her to sit at the table. "No, not exactly. This is going to sound completely nuts, but with everything else going on in the world lately, we're all going to have to learn to just roll with it, right? Steve, Captain America, he needs my help."

He had already told her about meeting him and a little of how Sam had helped the super soldier the day that the S.H.I.E.L.D base was destroyed in DC. She had been sworn to secrecy, but Sam knew Eleanor was someone who could be trusted. They had met when Sam had gotten out of the military and had been at his side through his rough transition back to "normal life."

"He needs me to locate a man without drawing a lot of attention. It would be too obvious if Steve was out there looking himself and it would attract too much attention from people who want to hurt this guy," Sam told her.

"Who is it?" He knew she would ask.

"This guy is a friend of Steve's. He knew him back in the forties. They were best friends and everyone thought the man died back in World War Two, but Hydra has had him for all these years. They used him as a weapon," Sam could see the gears turning in Eleanor's mind and braced himself for her reaction.

"No," she blurted out, "No way. You can't mean _him._ That guy who attacked you on the highway and then pushed you off a helicarrier? The Winter Soldier?"

Sam nodded, "Steve said he recognized him. He pulled him out of the river instead of killing him like he was ordered. There's been no news about the Winter Soldier working with Hydra since then, so Steve thinks he's on the run. He wants me to find him and bring him back so he can get help."

It was just like Sam to want to help someone who had tried to kill him multiple times simply because someone needed him to do it. He was constantly stretching himself thin to fix people's problems. If Steve Rogers had asked him for help, Sam would have never even considered turning him down. He might joke and complain about it, but Steve had been right to think Sam would unquestioningly agree to get involved. Eleanor racked her brain for something, anything, to put forth in an argument to change his mind, but the futility of it won in place of the desperation.

"Sam, you can't do this by yourself," Eleanor's voice was firm, "I can come with you. I can help. There's no way I'm letting you go off looking for someone like _that_ on your own."

Sam sighed, "I knew that's what you would say. Why do you think I tried to sneak out of here? You're like an annoying little sister that I can't stop from following me around." He wore a good natured smile, but his tone was laced with apprehension at the determined look on Eleanor's face. He had hoped he could avoid this conversation all together. He knew she would want to help, always there to have his back when things were tough.

"Get over yourself, Wilson. You need my help and you know it. This used to be my job. The fact that you didn't come to me about this makes me want to slap you, but I'll let it slide for now," Eleanor smirked, knowing Sam couldn't argue with her.

She was right. Before becoming friends with Sam, she had worked as a private investigator. She had often taken cold case jobs from the DC police department. Her high solve rate for even the most difficult of cases had led to interest from other agencies. S.H.I.E.L.D had approached her in the hopes of recruiting her, but she had taken a bullet out in the field on another job shortly after her first interview and her anxiety for that line of work had gotten too much to handle. It was at a meeting for people suffering from post traumatic stress that she met and befriended Sam. Even after a few years away from investigative work, Eleanor knew she was more than qualified to help Sam without being a burden.

"I have to clear it with Rogers first. This is his mission. He doesn't even want S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers to know what we're doing. If he's on board with involving you, then I could use your help," Sam agreed. "I'll give him a call."

Eleanor traced the patterns on the wood of the table while Sam went in the other room to call Steve. She could hear him pacing back and forth, voice low. His conversation was short lived before he came back into the kitchen.

"Well?" she prompted.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "He's on his way over."

Eleanor almost fell off her seat at that. "What? Why?"

"He wants to meet you before he agrees. He said he wants to be sure he can trust you," Sam explained. "Like I said, this guy was his best friend. He doesn't want him hurt or given over to Hydra _or_ S.H.I.E.L.D."

Eleanor couldn't help but be slightly shocked at the idea of Captain America himself hiding something from the rest of the world, especially if it involved a prior enemy. He had a squeaky clean image, even after Hydra had tried to discredit him and fuel rumors that he was a traitor a few weeks ago. It was surprising that he would go so far behind everyone's backs to find and rescue a known murderer.

She had heard of the Winter Soldier. He had been talked about by her classmates back when she was training as a detective, but it had been nothing more than a ghost story told over a few drinks, but nothing more serious than that. When a man was seen by countless witnesses attacking Captain America in broad daylight, people joked at first that it was a man who was convinced he was the Winter Soldier; someone crazy who had heard the story one too many times as a child and was delusional enough to take on the identity himself. After more footage of the attack came out and the Triskelion was attacked days later, the jokes became real. Hydra was not hesitant to fuel the panic that came with the entire world realizing the Winter Soldier was real. They took his betrayal personally and had thrown him under the bus as a scapegoat.

A knock at the door interrupted Eleanor and Sam's silence. Sam jumped forward from his spot leaning against the counter to open the door. Eleanor moved to her feet as the man she had only heard stories about came into Sam's kitchen. His face had been plastered all over the news since it became public that he had returned, but it was still a sight to behold as a living legend stood before her. He towered over her small frame, but his authoritative stance did not invoke fear. His expression was scrunched in worry as he looked over Eleanor with uncertainty.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." He stuck out a hand for her to shake, as if remembering his manners despite the unusual situation in which they were meeting. Her hand was dwarfed by the size of his as she looked him in the eye with confidence. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Sam's told me a lot about you," Eleanor replied, ignoring the wide eyes and frantic head shaking Sam was doing behind Steve's back. "I'm Eleanor Connington."

The super soldier ran his hands through his hair in a gesture more insecure than would have been expected. The smaller boy from before the serum was easy to see when he was nervous. That man was still there underneath the enhanced exterior.

"Sam said you wanted to go with him." His tone was awkward, almost a question.

"I can help," Eleanor found herself repeating. "My job use to be to track people down and solve cases that people had given up on. Sam has the stealth and the fighting skills, but he needs someone to help him actually figure out where to look. I can do that." Her confidence had Steve looking to Sam for confirmation, which was instantly confirmed by a nod. As much as Sam wanted to keep his friend from harm, he knew he was out of his depth when it came to searching for someone who didn't want to be found.

The captain turned back to Eleanor. "How do I know I can trust you to keep this a secret?"

She shook her head, "I suppose that you don't know for sure. But I know that you _do_ trust Sam. Sam trusts me. That should mean something."

Steve nodded thoughtfully, "It does. I should give you the details before you decide to go with him. I want you to know what you're getting into." He gave a small smile before settling down into a chair at the table, Sam and Eleanor following suit. He paused for a few minutes as if organizing his thoughts.

"His name is James Barnes. He was my best friend," he began, his voice solemn. "We traced Hydra to a train in the mountains. It didn't go as planned. We thought we could get in and out without being noticed, but we were wrong. I couldn't save him."

His voice broke and he had to stop for a moment before continuing, "Bucky fell from the train. It had to have been hundreds of feet down into a rocky valley. There was no way he could have survived. None of us thought he could have survived. If I had, I would have gone back for him. I would have never left him there. I don't know how, but the fall didn't kill him. Hydra found him. They turned him into... _that_. They used him as a weapon for decades. I'm sure Bucky would never do those things willingly; they must have done something to his mind to make him hurt all those people." His eyes had adopted a haunted look. It was clear that he felt every inch of guilt for what his friend had been put through over the years.

"He remembered me. He said I was his mission. He was sent to kill me and he almost did, but he stopped. Bucky stopped. I know it was him who pulled me out of the river. He's hiding from Hydra, from everyone. He must be putting the pieces together about what happened to him. I need to find him and help him. Will you help me?," Steve turned his eyes towards Eleanor, unable to hide the desperation in his gaze.

Eleanor looked back at the man before her, awestruck at the raw emotion radiating from one look. She had watched the footage of the Winter Soldier and the damage he had inflicted on DC such a short time ago. He was dangerous and lethal to anyone in his path. He had been made into a weapon and had only been perfected over the years into a deadly shadow. By all means, she should be terrified to even consider volunteering to find such a person. The look on the captain's face melted away any apprehension she felt. If this man felt there was any hope for the Winter Soldier, she trusted that he might be right.

"I _will_ find him."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! This is a new idea for a story that I have been toying around with. Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"El, you really don't need to do this," Sam reminded her. He knew it was futile. He had been telling Eleanor the same thing over and over since Steve Rogers had agree to accept her help. As much as he wanted to keep his friend out of harm's way, he knew it was not his place to forbid her from doing something. Besides, he could see that telltale stubborn glint in her eye that meant any real attempts to stop her would only reinforce her decision.

Eleanor smiled at him from the passenger seat. Her head was bobbing to the music playing faintly in the background as they drove out of the city. After packing some clothes and supplies, the two had left her apartment and started in a direction that Steve had suggested. The captain had been doing some of his own research since the Winter Soldier had pulled him out of the river and left him in a spot that the rescuers could easily find him. Eleanor wasn't entirely sold on the man's suggestions, but it was a starting point. Her fingers tapped away at the laptop in front of her as she poured over the files Steve had given her about his friend.

"I think Steve may be on to something with the search radius, at least in some ways," Eleanor announced. "I don't think this guy is taking any kind of public transportation or taking routes that are heavily used. Of course, he could have stolen a car, so who knows if he really is traveling by foot or not. Steve said he was hurt pretty bad when the helicarrier crashed. We know he was given some form of the serum by Hydra, but without being put back into cryofreeze, who knows how fast or effective his healing abilities are. Obviously the biggest factor here would be his mental state. He's been awake longer than he has in decades now. He's confused, hurt, and probably terrified. The only things he knows are how to fight and how to kill, so if he was out in the open, I feel like we would have heard more about him by witnesses."

"He's close then," Sam summarized, nodding his head in agreement.

Eleanor shrugged, "That depends on your definition of close maybe, but that's what I'm saying. He would want to get out of DC, considering the streets were swarming with both S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra agents, but I think he would instinctively go somewhere familiar."

Sam scrunched his face up in confusion. "I thought he had lost all his memories. Or at least most of them."

"Steve jump started his brain while the two were fighting. He said he seemed to remember, or started to anyway. He probably wouldn't have made a conscious decision on where to go, but subconsciously he would have gone to somewhere safe. Familiar." The sound of her keystrokes suddenly ceased. "Camp Lehigh. Wheaton, New Jersey."

"Cap's army training base from the forties?" The skepticism in Sam's voice made Eleanor smirk.

"It was where Barnes was trained before that. It was one of the last places he would have spent a lot of time before shipping out." Eleanor seemed pleased with herself at her deduction, but Sam knew it had one fatal flaw that she wasn't considering.

"Rogers said that place took a pretty big hit when he was there a few months ago. I don't even know how much is still standing after that. The place would be in ruins," Sam pointed out. Once again, he was struck by the enormity of what they had agreed to do. Trying to locate a man who wanted to stay hidden and who had the stealth training to be able to do so was daunting. All their possible leads were no more than hunches or far fetched theories created by the one man for whom it was virtually impossible to see the mission objectively.

"He's been living in a freezer in whatever rathole Hydra found next. I think a demolished military base is _exactly_ where he would be comfortable hiding out. Add the past connection and I'd say it might be worth checking out. It would be better than searching every abandoned warehouse and sewer tunnel in the country." She shut her laptop, looking at Sam for approval. He let her wait for a few minutes just to ruffle her feathers, holding back a smile at her scowl.

Sam shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, raising his eyebrows at her unimpressed frown, "Hey now, I had to make it seem like you didn't just outsmart all the plans Cap and I have talked about. You've been involved in this for two hours and you already have more of a solid plan that we had even hoped to make. Camp Lehigh it is."

* * *

 **A Few Hours Later…**

Sam slowed the car to a stop along the side of the road. He put the car into park almost in the grass. There was nothing around for miles except trees and a few spread out hunting cabins. The old army base was a mile from their location off a dirt road. The sign was long gone and the lane was overgrown, easy to miss for most people who may come across it.

"I'm going to take my pack and fly over the facility. I want to do a quick sweep of the area, check for any hazards or suspicious activity. I want to know what we're stepping into before we barge in." Sam was already out of the car, strapping himself into the device that would allow him to fly overhead quickly and silently.

Eleanor rolled down her window. "I don't think you're going to see anything. If he _is_ here, he will have hidden any trace of his presence completely. Why do you think the Winter Soldier was a ghost story for so long? The guy knows how to cover his tracks." Sam could hear the hint of worry in her voice, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate being called out on it. He gave her a cocky smile to try to ease her anxiety before running a few short steps and leaping into the air.

Eleanor leaned forward to look out the windshield as he rose into the air and disappeared over the trees. She had heard all the stories about his time in the military using the wings and had seen the footage of the battle at the Triskelion, but this was the first time she had seen Sam fly in person. No wonder he was so full of himself most of the time. She tapped her fingers against the dashboard, keeping her eyes on the sky and counting the seconds he was gone. She knew it was just a scouting run, but already she was struggling to keep from feeling like this was all a little over her head.

After a few long minutes, Sam touched down in front of the car without a sound. Eleanor scrambled out of her seat and met him outside. "Anything?"

He shook his head, "Not that I could see. Cap was right, the place took a lot of damage when it was hit by the missile. I did see a couple of barracks further into the property though and some of them were in decent shape. That looks like the best place to start."

"Alright, let's go," Eleanor exclaimed. She hurried back to the car, Sam jogging to follower her as she began sorting through the contents in the trunk. She pulled out a gun, checking the barrel to be sure it was loaded properly.

"El, is that a good idea? I have enough weapons for both of us. Honestly, I was kind of thinking you were staying in the car. You got us here. You can just relax while I take care of my end of the mission." As the words came out, Sam knew she wouldn't agree to it. There was no way Eleanor was letting him go in alone and her withering glare was all the response she needed to get her point across. "Take the tranquilizer gun too. Remember, Cap said he wants this guy taken alive if at all possible. He gave us a stock of high dose sedatives that will hopefully work on him."

"I know how to use a gun, Sam," Eleanor teased. "You worry about yourself, Bird Man."

* * *

 **I promise we're getting to the Bucky/Winter Soldier part of the story! I don't want to rush into anything too quickly. I wanted to give everyone a heads up that this story is going to be dark. I'm planning on making it that way because I feel like a lot of stories portray Bucky in a light version for the most part (not always, of course!) and I wanted to make a story that focused more on the Winter Soldier personality. So if you're not a fan of graphic violence or content, then here's a warning. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"You should ask your buddy Tony Stark to make me a pair of these," Eleanor whispered in a laugh the moment her feet touched the ground. Sam had flown the two of them from the car to the inside perimeter of the military base. Eleanor had objected to the idea of Sam's ability to hold on to her so high up in the air, but he didn't lose his grip even slightly the entire time and the fear quickly subsided.

Sam shook his head, "If you have a pair, then that would mean there would be two Falcons. I'm not ready to give up my Avenger card just yet." Eleanor rolled her eyes at him. She knew how proud Sam was since being asked to join the Avengers, but his childlike excitement over it always made her smile. "Okay, so we're going to start by checking out the barracks. Keep your guard up, weapon ready at all times. I want you to stay behind me."

Eleanor shot him a glare, "I'm not a fucking child, Sam. I know what I'm doing. I don't need you to baby me."

"I'm not," he objected, "I just know what this guy's like. He _did_ try to kill me, remember? He's dangerous. Captain America isn't the only one running around with super soldier serum in their veins. Cap might think his friend is still in there somewhere, but I'm not as convinced."

Sam's words echoed in her head. Eleanor tightened her grip on the tranquilizer gun, trying to convince herself that she wouldn't prefer real bullets instead. She knew Sam still held a grudge against the man known as the Winter Soldier and she didn't blame him. After seeing the footage, she knew how brutal the assassin had been trained to be. She would be lying if she said the thought of finding him didn't make her stomach twist in apprehension, but there was also a part of her that hoped the Captain was right. When he had filled her in on everything, Eleanor had seen the sadness and guilt the soldier carried around after finding out that his best friend had been alive and under the control of Hydra for all these years. His hope was impossible to ignore and she found herself wanting to hope right along with him.

She gave Sam a curt nod, but let him take the lead. If it made him feel better about having her alone, Eleanor would let him go first. He would have to learn to relax about her now that they were going to work together. They walked silently, guns drawn. Eleanor scanned the ground for evidence of footprints, but found none. None of the leaves or fallen branches looked to be disturbed either, which is what would have been expected if someone had been coming and going out of any of the buildings. If the missing assassin had taken up residence here, he would still have needed to leave for food and water. The lack of activity made Eleanor start to doubt her hunch that led them here.

Methodically, the two made their way around the crumbling barracks. Each of the buildings revealed nothing. Eleanor couldn't push down the surge of embarrassment at being proven wrong. It had been a long time since she had done any investigative work, but she had been hoping that her skills had not gotten rusty during the time off. It was foolish to think they would find the Winter Soldier on the first try, but a small part of her brain had been so _sure._

"Last one," Sam muttered, gesturing to the smallest of the buildings. It was more of a supply shed than anything else, but in an effort to be thorough, it was worth checking out. Eleanor scanned the area around it but nothing caught her attention as they made their way down the cracked concrete path up to the door.

The door was resting against the frame, no longer attached at the hinges. The rest of the structure was crumbling, but it was the absence of dust around the entrance that had Eleanor reaching to stop Sam from getting closer. There were no footprints or scuff marks, but the absence of dust when the rest of the buildings had all had the same layer on every surface was suspicious. It looked like it had been wiped clean. Eleanor held a finger to her lips to silence Sam's protests before pointing to the door and holding her gun out in front of her.

The question of how to proceed if or when they found the Winter Soldier had been discussed at length before the two had parted ways with Steve back at Sam's apartment. Sam thought it best to capture the man off guard and subdue him long enough to get him back to the captain to be dealt with, but Eleanor had sided with Steve. When the man had recognized Steve during their fight on the helicarrier and had subsequently pulled him out of the river, it proved that he had some level of humanity and remnants of his old life. He was obviously still lethal and had more than enough skills to take out anyone who he deemed a threat, so surprising him would only exasperate the problem.

"Sergeant Barnes," she called out softly. The captain had advised her to address his former friend that way; he thought it would help to spark more recognition that he knew was lurking beneath the surface. "Sergeant Barnes, there are two of us out here. Captain Rogers sent us to help you." She felt silly even as the words were leaving her mouth. The words hung in the air, swallowed by the silence.

"I told Cap announcing ourselves to this guy would be the same as asking 'who's there?' in a horror movie," Sam said under his breath. Eleanor bit back her warning when she heard the fear her friend was unable to hide from his voice. "If he was here, he would have knocked at least one of us out by now. Let's go."

Ignoring him, Eleanor crept closer to the door. She didn't want to have to explain to Captain Rogers why their search had skipped over a building before they moved on. She had never been one to half-ass anything and she wasn't about to start now. Shifting her gun to one hand, she moved the rickety door to the side enough to slip through. Her heart pounded in her chest. Sam followed her closely.

"He's been here," Eleanor whispered to him. In one corner of the room, a pile of dirty clothes was arranged almost like a bed. Food wrappers littered the floor around the makeshift sleeping area. On the other side of the room, the stench from the remains of animal bones and dried blood made her wrinkle her nose.

"You think he's coming back?" Sam asked. "I can have Cap on the phone in ten seconds if we need."

Eleanor was about to agree to his suggestion, but Sam let out a yelp. She spun around, gun held up and ready. Sam was on the ground, knocked unconscious and sprawled on the dirty floor, blood trickling from the side of his head. Her finger tightened on the trigger, but a flash of metal came from the side and knocked the gun from her hands and sent her crashing back against the wall. She slid down until she met the floor, unable to take her eyes away from the attacker.

"Sergeant Barnes." Her voice wavered, holding her hands up in front of her.

The man before her had no remains of the carefree Howling Commando portrayed in the documentaries. He towered over her, staring down with no hint of emotion at all. There was no trace of recognition at the sound of his own name, no indication that he was not still the Winter Soldier he had been created to be. His long hair was tangled and greasy; his clothes the ripped and bloodied uniform given to him from Hydra back when Steve Rogers had been his mission. The time in hiding had not been kind to him, the lack of enough food mixed with obvious exhaustion had given him an almost feral appearance.

Eleanor shook from her spot on the floor, but neither made a move towards each other. "We aren't here to hurt you. We want to help."

He made no move to harm her or to flee, but the corners of his mouth hardened slightly at the sound of her voice. His eyes were red from lack of sleep or stress, but the intensity of his glare was enough to dash any hope Eleanor might have harbored that she could outmatch him.

"Steve Rogers sent us. You know him. You remember who he is. He wants to help you." His eyes in panic widened at the name. The fingers of his metal hand clenched, grinding against each other hard enough that the sound echoed. His eyes darted around frantically as he seemed to contemplate her words. "You're safe now. We're going to protect you from what those people did to you."

The soldier's eyes stopped their movement, freezing on her. He stalked forward abruptly and she shrank away from him. Before she could get another word out, his metal hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her onto her knees. Her fingers clawed at the cold arm, but it made no difference.

Sam groaned from his spot on the floor, lifting his head to the scene in front of him. "El, what the fuck happened?"

The Winter Soldier hauled Eleanor around, his grip tightening further and causing her to gasp in pain. Sam scrambled up onto his feet, unsteady but already focusing his gun on his target. Eleanor was pulled to her feet, her neck strained backwards as the soldier pulled her in front of his own body. He had the upper-hand, Eleanor quickly realized. Sam would never take his shot if there was a possibility that she could be harmed in the crossfire.

"Drop your gun," a deep voice ordered, so close to her ear that Eleanor could feel her hair move from the breath. The voice was low and rough, as if it hadn't been used in years.

"Come on, man. We're not here to start anything," Sam started.

Eleanor cried out in pain as the hand in her hair yanked backwards. The movement pulled her off balance, knocking her into the hard chest of the man behind her. The cold edge of a blade graced her exposed neck. Sam cursed under his breath, but threw his gun down to the floor and put his hands up in surrender.

"Leave." The low tone was both an order and a threat, but Sam stood tall in its wake.

"Let her go and we will," he countered. Eleanor could feel the edge of the blade pressed tighter against her skin. A thin line of blood blossomed from the pressure. "She isn't a threat to you. Let her go and we will both be gone. You don't have to do this."

"Leverage." She shivered at the response. After everything that had happened to him for all those years, there was no chance that he would trust anyone at their word. He saw them both as a threat and would not back down. She realized her role had turned from an investigator to a hostage and there was nothing she could do to change that. Sam was still shaky from being hit and was in no shape to fight to save her. She knew without a doubt that he would be killed if he tried and she could not have that on her conscious.

"Sam, it's okay," Eleanor pleaded. She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over in fear. "Do what he says. Don't argue. Go find Captain Rogers and tell him we found nothing. Lead him away from here and I will meet you when I can."

She hoped her words sounded as confident as she was trying to convey. Sam's face was pained. He wanted to argue, but closed his mouth again as he thought over her words. Eleanor was relieved to see that her subtle plan had been noted. She knew there was a tracking device in the watch on her wrist, so all Sam had to do was find Steve and the two men could locate her. The Winter Soldier only had to believe he had won until they could return to rescue her.

"I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will murder you," Sam threatened. He limped to the doorway, shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned back, silently promising Eleanor that he would come back for her before activating the wings in his pack. He was gone within seconds, the sound of his retreat fading quickly.

"Please," she sniffed, unable to hide the panic that threatened to take over at the reality of being alone with Hydra's trained killer. She may have the tracker, but until someone came for her, she was at his mercy. She choked back a cry of relief when the blade was lowered from her throat. The man shoved her down on the ground roughly, her hands taking the brunt of the fall.

"Don't run." His cold eyes had frozen her to the spot even without the order. She already knew it would be futile to try to escape. Her only hope would be that he didn't decide to dispose of her before Sam and the captain returned. She watched as the soldier stalked around the room, shoving things into a tattered dufflebag without as much of a glance in her direction.

"You're leaving. You know they'll be back. It'll take them a while to get back here. They won't catch you. You can just let me go and disappear before they're even close." She knew reasoning with him or appealing to the man he used to be was hopeless. The man before her was not Captain America's best friend; he was the Winter Soldier.

The man stopped to observe her as Eleanor pushed herself backwards to put distance between them. She could see him calculating her as if she was a threat or a mission that he needed to eliminate. Despite her defensive position, she held her head up to meet his stare. If he was going to kill her, she was determined to stay strong as she met her fate.

With a growl, the soldier lunged forward and clenched her wrist in his grip painfully. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from crying out, tasting blood in the back of her mouth. Eleanor pulled her arm back, but he was too strong. His fingers wrapped around the watch on her wrist, yanking it off with a harsh snap. Her heart jumped into her throat. The tracker was the only way for Sam to be able to find her. The resounding crunch of the device being crushed under his boot made her glare up at the soldier, but he had already turned his back to her to continue gathering his supplies.

His back turned to her, she barely heard his next words. "You're coming with me."


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

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Eleanor shifted to try to take the pressure off her arm, but it was no use. Her limbs had fallen asleep over an hour ago when the soldier had tied her hands and feet with duct tape and tossed her into the backseat of the car. All of her silent prayers in the time that it took for him to hot-wire a car abandoned on the property had gone unanswered, so when he had forced her into the vehicle, she couldn't help the fear from overwhelming her. The soldier had not said a word to her since they had left the military base, giving no hint as to where he was taking her or what he had planned. Eleanor tried to push away the endless scenarios that flooded her mind; it was no use imagining the violence this man was capable of, so she tried to figure out what to do next.

She knew that even with all her training, the soldier was not someone she was capable of overpowering or outrunning. Captain Rogers had insisted the assassin was capable of remembering the man he was before Hydra had brainwashed him; he was able to show mercy and hold on to the slivers of humanity he had left. Eleanor knew it was a long shot, but maybe she could get through to the man somehow. If she could break through the walls that made up the Winter Soldier, there could still be some level of hope. He needed to be reminded that he was not Hydra's weapon anymore; he was a person just like anyone else. She had to trust that Steve's best friend was still in there and that he really had been as good of a man as the stories suggested.

"Where are we going?" Eleanor croaked out, her voice still ragged from earlier when she had tried yelling for help. It came out barely louder than a whisper, but the soldier flinched as if it had been a slap. He recovered quickly and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, ignoring her. "I'm not trying to escape or anything. I just want to know when we'll be getting out of the car. We've been driving for hours. I'm sure you're just as hungry and tired as I am."

Once again, he ignored her. The only indication that he had heard her was the tightening in his jaw as he put his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Headlights periodically cut through the darkness of the car, illuminating his impassive expression and glinting off his metal arm. Even in the midst of such a terrible series of events, Eleanor had to admit the man was striking. She had seen the Smithsonian exhibit and the documentaries with footage of the captain's old friend, so she knew of his reputation back then as a charming flirt, but there was no trace of the good humored young man in the car with her now. He was still just as handsome, perhaps even more so, but his lightness had been replaced with something dangerous. Anger, sadness, and confusion radiated from him, but his new-found emotions had not weakened him; now he was somehow more dangerous than he was weeks earlier. He had no one telling him what his mission was and nothing to lose now.

The car abruptly turned off the road, barely losing any speed before screeching to a stop. Eleanor hit the back of the seats, yelping in pain when she could not use her hands to brace against the sudden impact. She scrambled to right herself, looking out the window to see an empty motel parking lot. A neon sign was blinking halfheartedly in front of the seedy motel office.

The soldier stepped out of the car, scanning the area quickly in assessment. He ripped the car's back door open. Eleanor pushed backwards in an effort to put distance between them, but his metal hand shot out to grab her ankle. A knife flashed as he roughly cut the duct tape binding her feet before pulling her out of the vehicle. Her numb feet were unable to adjust to the swift change and Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut to brace for the fall, but it never came. The soldier had wrapped his metal arm around her waist, holding her steady while simultaneously hiding her bound arms and his conspicuous hand.

"Thank you, Sergeant," Eleanor whispered.

He growled at her words, but otherwise kept his reaction controlled. He steered them towards the end of the motel, stopping finally at the last room. Eleanor looked towards the office, desperately hoping the employee inside might notice what was going on. The man at the counter was asleep, oblivious and devastating unhelpful. Within seconds, the soldier had the lock picked and she was pushed through the door.

The sound of the lock behind her made her heart drop. She stood, silent in the darkness of the room. She knew the Winter Soldier was a killer, but what other crimes was he capable of? Her thoughts swam with panic. She could hear his ragged breathing behind her, but he hadn't moved from his spot near the door. He had been used as a weapon for over seventy years, surely he was not used to human contact. Were those emotions, those _urges_ flooding back to him now? Is that why he had taken her with him instead of fleeing on his own? Eleanor cursed herself for not considering the possibility of this scenario earlier.

His footsteps slowly moved towards her. Eleanor willed her feet to stay still, not wanting to show any fear. If she ran from him, it might only prove to spurn on his attack sooner. The pressure of his hand on her shoulder made her jump, but he only tightened his grip further. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was grateful that it was his real hand instead of the cold metal, but his touch was still far from gentle. He shoved her hair over one of her shoulders, moving closer despite her small cry of protest. Eleanor strained against the duct tape covering her wrists until he clutched both of her hands, the metal biting into her skin. She held her breath, feeling him stop inches behind her, so close his breath ghosted against the back of her neck. With his flesh hand, he traced the length of her spine with surprising tenderness, which Eleanor found herself leaning into unconsciously.

His breathing became more erratic, almost feral. Eleanor winced at the sudden possessive grip of his metal hand as he pulled her towards him with a low growl. Instead of crashing into his chest, her wrists were released from the tape with a sharp sting of a knife and she was pushed away from him towards the bed. She gasped in surprise as she caught herself from completely losing her balance, spinning around to face him, but he did not move to pursue her.

Eleanor stood cautiously, the back of her legs barely touching the bed. The soldier had not moved from his spot. His eyes were closed tightly, his metal hand clenching and unclenching into a fist. He seemed to be struggling to control his breathing as his face was twisted in pain. As terrified as she was, Eleanor was struck by the sadness of the man standing before her. He could have hurt her, could have forced himself on her, but he had stopped himself.

His eyes snapped opened and met her's. "Go to sleep. I will find food in the morning before I decide what to do next." It was an order, but there was no aggression in his tone.

Eleanor slipped her shoes off and climbed into the bed, not taking her eyes off the soldier. He waited until she was settled under the blanket before moving to sit down in a chair near the entrance. He dropped a gun onto the small table nearby, staring at the door as if waiting for someone to kick it in. Eleanor watched him from across the room, feeling her eyelids get heavier and heavier as she studied the damaged man. His eyes flickered back to land on her, more emotion behind his expression than before, but her sleep deprived mind was unable to interpret anything other than her renewed vow to help Captain America's best friend get his life back.

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 **Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think of the story so far. To be honest, I had a pretty tough time with this chapter. Any feedback is helpful! I appreciate it.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

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"Get up." The weight of a bag being thrown beside her head jolted Eleanor awake. Disoriented, she tried to sit up in the foreign bed to take in her surroundings, but found herself unable to move past being propped up on her side. Her right hand was handcuffed to headboard of the motel bed.

"I didn't even try to leave. Is this really necessary?" She kept her voice even and free of any anger. If should could keep talking to him like a person instead of a machine, maybe he would believe it himself.

"I had to get food," was his only response. He had resumed his position in the chair by the door, staring at her with his usual cold intensity.

She glanced at the truck-stop bag he had tossed at her a few minutes earlier. She fumbled with it with her free hand, clumsy in the awkward position. He had brought a few bottles of water, some protein bars, snack cakes, string cheese, and a chocolate bar. In different circumstances, she may have grinned at the strange assortment the former assassin had picked out, but the handcuffs biting into her other hand reminded her that it would not be a welcomed reaction.

Now that she was more awake, she was able to maneuver herself into a more comfortable position that let her sit up against the headboard as she unscrewed the cap to the water. Her first tiny sip quickly turned into frantic gulps as her body reminded herself of how long it had been since she had water. She drained the first bottle, sputtering at the last couple of drops. Her face reddened in embarrassment as she glanced over to see the soldier continuing to stare. Eleanor picked up one of the protein bars, noticing his focus flicker to the wrapper for a fraction of a second before he met her eyes and clenched his fist slightly. This gave her an idea.

"Did you already eat?" she asked softly, resting the unopened package beside her instead of scarfing it down like she so desperately wanted.

"I had food earlier this week," he reported in a monotone.

She scrunched up her face in confusion. She had seen the food wrappers and butchered animals back at the military base; he obviously knew how to get himself food. Why would he only eat a few times a week? She knew it had a similar super soldier serum as Captain America, but this wouldn't mean he would not need food. Sam had told her countless stories of Steve's insane appetite that was caused by his increased strength and physical size. The man in front of her looked deadly, but on closer inspection, he also looked thinner and more exhausted than she remembered from the news footage.

"You have to eat more than once a week," Eleanor told him. "Did Hydra not feed you in between missions?" He clenched his jaw, continuing to stare at her, but she could see him contemplating her words. It seemed as if he was not accustomed to answering questions about himself unless it was about a mission. She didn't press him to answer, letting him decide on his own to respond.

His answer was so low she had to strain to hear his words. "I was frozen in between missions. After successful missions, I would sometimes be given food, but most of the time they gave me some kind of liquid through a tube after a session in the chair."

Eleanor had to hold back a gasp of shock. He had been controlled for so long that he had forgotten how to take care of himself. On some level, the man knew he was supposed to eat and sleep, but his understanding of how much was necessary had been skewed after all the time being frozen and unfrozen.

With a pang of sympathy, she slowly held out the protein bar. "You need to eat more often. You're going to make yourself sick if you don't eat."

His gaze hardened into a glare. She knew his life had been filled to the brim with orders, so getting one from a girl he had taken as a hostage was certainly not what he wanted to hear. Eleanor may have intended the suggestion as a way to help him, but he had not taken it that way.

"Please, take it," she tried again.

The soldier stood abruptly and closed the distance between them. His hand roughly grabbed the wrapper from her hand, ignoring her small yelp of surprise. She hid her tiny smile as she watched him stalk back to the chair and viciously tear open the wrapper. She would try to suggest the water another time; it was all about small victories. Eleanor knew it was wrong to feel almost protective of the man who was keeping her as a hostage, but she trusted in Captain Rogers' judgement and hoped that it wouldn't come back to bite her.

She opened one of the snack cakes with her teeth, irritated at being restricted to the use of only one hand. The pair ate in silence, Eleanor carefully avoiding the constant stare to her side. His cold stare was overwhelming and left her feeling too exposed.

"I need information," the soldier demanded. Eleanor jumped, mouth full of food as she stared at him in confusion. "Who do you work for?"

She swallowed, shaking her head. "I don't work for anyone."

His fist clenched the arm of the chair until the wood splintered. That was apparently the wrong answer. "The man you were with. I've seen him before. You are working with him."

"That's Sam Wilson. He's my friend. You _have_ seen him before, back in DC. We aren't working for anyone. We were trying to help you." Her voice wavered at his narrowed eyes.

"Who sent you?" Her heart was racing, almost louder than his question. She pressed her lips together tightly, suddenly afraid of how he would react to her answer. The captain had been his last mission; the memory of him might still trigger a response programmed by Hydra. Her lack of response sent him into a roar, "WHO SENT YOU?"

"Steve Rogers," she answered. When he made no response, she continued. "Captain America. You know him as Steve Rogers. He was your best friend. He sent us. He wants to help you."

His eyes widened, almost in panic before settling into something more akin to grief. "I knew him."

Eleanor was encouraged by his ability to make the connection. She could hear the pain in his voice and every fiber of her being wanted desperately to help him. It wasn't his fault what Hydra had done to him. "You _do_ know him. And he knows who you are. You are Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Steve Rogers is your best friend. He called you Bucky. You remembered him when he called you that and you pulled him out of the river. You saved him and that's what he wants to do for you. He's your friend."

"No," the soldier growled. He tightened his metal hand around the arm of the chair until it finally snapped. Eleanor inhaled sharply, eyes widening in fright. Once again, the handcuff around her wrist made it painfully clear that she was at the mercy of the Winter Soldier. Her wrist ached as she shrunk away from him as he came to tower over her, his breathing wild and eyes reddening.

"You _are._ You _are_ Bucky and you _do_ know Steve Rogers. He's your friend, Bucky. You remember him, you do!" Her voice had taken a pleading tone. The captain had insisted that the man before her recognized his name, recognized his friend even in his Captain America uniform, but his promise was going unheard. Eleanor had hoped he was right, had trusted that he knew this man better than anyone, but that hope was crumbling. "Please just talk to him. You saved him for a reason, didn't you? You knew he was your friend, Bucky."

The soldier let out an agonized cry, the sound wild and rough. Seconds later, he swung his metal arm back and smacked it across Eleanor's face with an angry snarl. The blow knocked her head to the side with a snap. The pain was enough to blur her vision, her skin on fire from the unforgiving contract of the metal. Already, she could feel the bruise forming, the taste of blood metallic in her mouth. Her head was spinning from the pain, but she knew he had been holding back. Eleanor kept her eyes squeezed shut, silent in fear of him lashing out again without restraint.

"I am _not_ Bucky," the soldier spat. "That man is _not_ my friend. He was my _mission._ "

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 **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

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The next couple of days had consisted of racing from motel to motel, always keeping to the seedy areas of each town they passed. Sometimes they would drive through the night without stopping at all and other times they would not leave the motel for two days straight. Throughout that time, the soldier was always assessing their surroundings, watching for a threat that had yet to show itself.

Eleanor had not talked to him since that first morning when he had hit her and he had not made any effort to break their silence. He must have taken her advice about food because, to his credit, he always made sure to steal her more than enough to keep her from ever feeling hungry while they traveled. She would accept whatever odd assortment of gas station food he presented to her each day without a word. Her hopes of being able to break through to him had dwindled almost to the point of disappearing and the memory of his hit replayed in her mind whenever she looked at him.

She had tried to keep track of which direction they were going, tried to see if there was some kind of pattern or destination in mind. As far as should could tell, the soldier had been moving them around without any sort of plan other than to avoid being trailed. He hadn't touched her or questioned her again since that one day, so his motive for dragging her with him baffled her. Eleanor had been expecting him to try to torture information out of her or murder her to get to Sam and the captain, but other than the slap and the rough way he pulled her in and out of the car, he had not made a move to touch her. Each night, he took his place in a chair or standing by the door in whatever crummy motel they were in and simply stared at her. His expression was indecipherable. She fell asleep each day to that stare, chilled to the bone at those cold eyes.

Eleanor pulled the blanket up to her chin. Her wrist was red and raw from the handcuffs that he always used to lock her to the bed. She couldn't understand why he felt the need to do that; he never seemed to sleep and was always watching her from his spot next to the door. There was no way for her to escape without him seeing her, no way for her to fight him off if she did try to run. Even with his self appointed duty as guard, he locked the handcuffs and restrained her after letting her use the bathroom at night and did not move to unlock them until the next morning.

It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep each time they broke into a new motel room. At first, she had been so exhausted from the stress and the trauma of being taken by the Winter Soldier and had fallen into an uneasy but deep sleep. After a while, that exhaustion gave way to intense anxiety as she felt the clock ticking by, unable to see what fate was in store for her. She tried to think of a plan to escape, but logic always won over even the most clever of ideas. He had been trained to eliminate targets, to out think opponents in the field by any means necessary. Even with all her training and her detective skills, she was no match for Hydra's specially created hit-man. Each night, she desperately pleaded with the universe to let Sam and Captain Rogers find her. She knew they had no way to track her without the GPS embedded in her watch, but she tried to hold on to the hope that they would still find her somehow. She hadn't known Steve for long, but Eleanor knew Sam would never give up searching for her, even if it meant enlisting the help of the other Avengers.

"Go to sleep," the soldier ordered. He had noticed she was awake, despite having her eyes closed. She had learned that he was attuned to picking up small details about people, such as breathing rate or level of dehydration. It must have been part of Hydra's training; if he could see what made another person tick, he could see their weaknesses, sense their fear. He never missed anything, even without Eleanor having to speak.

"Why does it matter?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, the tone laced with bitterness. Any trace of the friendly persona she had been aiming for in the beginning with this man had long since vanished.

There was a long pause. "If you don't sleep, your body will succumb to exhaustion."

She chuckled humorlessly. He seemed to take everything literally, only seeing the world in black and white. Everything had a function or a purpose for him and whatever was left over was unimportant. He ate and drank water because his body required him to do so, giving the acts no other thought than that. Without a mission, he focused his attention on guarding his hostage from escaping because that could lead to himself being caught. He didn't waste time thinking about _who_ Eleanor was or even what he wanted now that he was free from Hydra. He focused on the present and the small tasks needed to keep them alive and undetected. She could sense his agitation at her lack of response.

"That's not what I meant, but good to know, sir." She heard herself mock. Eleanor kept her eyes closed, afraid of what his reaction to her retort might be, but she heard nothing but a small sigh.

"What _did_ you mean?" he pressed after a long couple of minutes. She had thought he dropped the subject and was surprised by his question. He had never wanted to know what she was thinking before.

She licked her lips, cursing herself for even speaking to him in the first place. Surely nothing good would come from it. Her cheekbone still ached from where his hand had struck her, the bruise only just starting to fade slightly but no less a reminder of antagonizing the assassin. "I know that I _need_ to sleep. I just don't understand why _you_ would give a shit whether or not I did. I don't do anything more than lay tied up in the backseat of the car while you drive to the next hideout you find. It doesn't matter if I die from exhaustion now or later on whenever you decide to finally kill me. The outcome is the same for me."

Her words disappeared into the silence of the dark room. She regretted her small rant already, but in a way, voicing her hopelessness was almost a relief. She had been trying to stay strong and not spiral into panic over her impending fate, but to hear it out loud was freeing. She feel see a small amount of acceptance in her mind that helped ease the fear.

"I'm not going to kill you." His response was a whisper of confusion and hurt. He had not expected her answer despite what he had done to her. The soldier was upset at her expectations of him, but she could tell he was not sure what he _should_ be feeling.

Eleanor opened her eyes to look at him for the first time since their conversation started. He was leaning forward on the chair, his hands gripping his knees tightly. His face was flushed as he bite his lower lip in a gesture that was far more human than he normally displayed. His hair hung heavy in his face, but underneath she glimpsed his red rimmed eyes staring back at her.

"If you weren't going to kill me, you would have let me go by now. I'm handcuffed to a bed every night and tossed into the backseat of a car with my hands and feet tied each day. This story does not end well for me." Her tone was soft, but not accusing. Despite his treatment of her, she was still unable to push away the pity she felt for the man. Hydra had twisted his mind for so long that any shred of the person he was before had been destroyed and the soldier did not know how to act any differently than he had been trained.

His eyes darted to the side wildly. He looked almost childlike in his desperation, trying to get a grasp on the conflict within his own mind. Eleanor's breath got caught in her chest when he suddenly stood and walked over to the bed. The soldier stood for a moment, looking down at her with an uneasy expression. Eleanor had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying out when his hand stretched out to her arm. Without a word, he unlocked the handcuffs and released her wrist. She sat up to relieve the tension caused by her arm being twisted for so long.

She gasped as the soldier picked up her wrist with his flesh hand, his touch so gentle it made her heart drum frantically. His fingers traced the sore redness around her wrist, the skin tingling at the contact. He kept studying the bruising as Eleanor focused her attention on him. His expression was so heartbroken that it was hard to see where the Winter Soldier began and the man underneath ended.

"Thank you," Eleanor whispered.

The sound startled him back into the emotionless mask he usually wore. He yanked his hand away from her and stepped away from her quickly, defaulting back to the harsh, impersonal persona of the Winter Soldier. He stomped back to the chair, sitting down in it and gripping the sides of it tightly. Eleanor closed her eyes, the feeling of his fingers on her wrist still tingling on her skin.

* * *

 **Hello, Readers! I just wanted to take the time to say thank you for reading. I** _ **really**_ **appreciate any feedback at all you could give me about this story. Its a little darker than I am used to writing, so I'm a bit out of my comfort zone on this one (in a good way!). Are the characters believable? Or is there something that you find too OOC? If there is any input you could give me on it, I would be eternally grateful.**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

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 **Hello, my lovely Readers! I am SO sorry for taking this long to get this out. I had to travel for a wedding a few states away and only just got back. It has been ages since I've been anywhere on vacation and I just didn't have time to even open my laptop. I'm the worst, I know. I hope the upcoming chapters will make up for it. As always, please let me know what you think!**

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For the first night in weeks, Eleanor did not twist and turn fitfully in her sleep. Consciousness slowly took hold as she nuzzled her face further into the soft pillow. She sighed in contentment, unwilling to open her eyes just yet. The bed was too comfortable; waking up and going through the motions of getting ready to meet Sam for their daily run would require too much effort. She would call him in a few minutes and tell him she needed a lazy day on the couch instead. The thought of a movie marathon and some junk food made a smile creep onto her face. It was a wonder how something as simple as a good night's sleep could make everything seem okay in the world.

She could already hear Sam's mock annoyance at her call, but Eleanor knew he would be over later with a bottle of vodka and some cheesy eighties movie of his own to make her suffer through. A small chuckle escaped at the thought as she opened her eyes, blinking the sleep out of her blurred vision.

Eleanor's stomach clenched painfully as she gasped, bolting upright against the headboard. Reality flooded in as the grips of sleep were ripped from her mind. The hotel room was dim; the curtains all pulled tightly closed against the outside world. The disappointment of being thrown back into real life was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she grit her teeth and willed herself to keep her emotions in check.

The soldier sat rigid in his chair, only inches from the side of the bed. He must have dragged it away from his guard post by the door during the night, which was new. Eleanor knew she should be terrified at this change in his routine, but only the faintest shiver of fear pricked at her mind. Another part of her saw this change as something to hold on to, something to grasp in hope that he was moving away from his training and making his own decisions. It was small, but decades of brainwashing and conditioning took longer to chip away than one night.

"Are you okay?" Eleanor's voice was scratchy, making her cough and grab the water bottle next to her on the bed. She took a few swigs from it, waiting patiently for the soldier's response. His expression was confused, brows furrowed and eyes darting back and forth as if searching for the answer somewhere in the room.

"I have no damage or malfunctions at the moment. I have assessed the area for threats and have found none." His tone was flat, face void of emotion. His confusion from a few seconds before had been carefully smoothed over as if he had realized he was expected to give a mission report, which had been part of Hydra's procedure for him over the years, according to the leaked files on the Winter Soldier.

Eleanor bit back the sad sigh that threatened to appear at his response. She wanted to clarify, to tell him that he misunderstood her question and wanted to know if _he_ was okay, not the mission or Hydra's weapon. The memory of the night before when she had thanked him for uncuffing her hand and his reaction to her kind words kept those sentiments from being formed. It might be better to play along with his behavior, at least for now. He seemed to be making improvements; his humanity was slipping under the cracks of the walls forced onto the man he used to be and forcing those improvements to speed up could do more harm than good.

"You are not working for Hydra." It was a statement, but Eleanor could hear the question buried in his gruff voice.

She shook her head slowly, "No. I would _never_ help them."

"But you know more than a regular civilian about their organization. This is because of your association with the Captain and his men." Again, he was not asking, but Eleanor felt as if she was being interrogated all the same. This was all information he had questioned her about before, so his motives for doing so again were unclear, but if he needed to hear the words again, she would help him.

"Just Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson. No one else." She ignored the flash of unease the first name produced. "I do not work for them. Sam is my friend and we were helping Captain Rogers to find you. None of us want to hurt you or arrest you."

The soldier's jaw clenched, "Mission objectives?" His gaze burned into her, unblinkingly. As intense as he stare was, he made no efforts to try to intimidate or harm her. Small improvements.

"Captain Rogers...," Eleanor began, once again ignoring the tensing of his position at the name, "Captain Rogers had been searching for you since the Triskelion was destroyed. With S.H.I.E.L.D gone, many of the resources he had at his disposal are not longer options, so Sam Wilson offered to help him. When I heard about it, I offered to join them. I used to work as a detective and Sam trusts me, so Captain Rogers agreed to include me. No one else knows about what we're doing or what information we have. We were trying to find you and bring you somewhere safe, somewhere hidden from Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D and anyone else who might be looking. Hydra forced you to do what they wanted and they hurt you. We wanted to make sure that wouldn't happen again."

Eleanor had moved to sit on the edge of the bed as she talked, facing the soldier. The room fell into silence. She studied his face, trying to predict his reaction. His body was tense and even slightly uncomfortable, but he made no moves to do anything. She forced her eyes not to wander to the metal hand he kept clenched into a fist at his side. She let him process her words.

"I will not go with the Captain." His tone was firm and decided. It must have just been wishful thinking that Eleanor thought she could hear the sadness in his voice at his decision. "I will make a deal with him to exchange you on the condition that he ceases his efforts to track me."

Eleanor felt her shoulders slump in disappointment. She desperately wanted them to find her, but not at the price of Steve losing his best friend yet again. It wasn't fair to make him choose to save a woman he had just met a few weeks ago over his childhood friend and the thought made her sick.

The soldier picked up the phone from the nightstand and held it out to her. "You will call them and tell them that I left you here. I am sure they have been expecting some contact from you and will trace the call's location. Tell them their search must end or I will make it my mission to find you again to put a bullet through your skull in front of them."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

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"Has he hurt you? Where are you, El? I'm going to kill that bastard. If he did anything to you, I swear I won't even care what Cap says. That guy is _done_ ," Sam rushed out as soon as he picked up the phone. It had only taken two rings, but those two sounds felt like the numbers on a clock ticking down relentlessly.

Eleanor glanced at the man in front of her, stoic and impassive as he stared back at her. There was no gun to her head in any literal sense, but she could feel its presence in the way he was watching to make sure she did as she was told. It took every ounce of will to keep the phone from shaking right out of her hand as she swallowed down the fear that threatened to appear.

"I'm fine, Sam," she finally forced out. "He wants to make a deal with Cap." The name being thrown around in such an informal manner made the soldier's eyes flash. Mentions of his old friend were not bringing out his humanity like the Captain had hoped; he seemed to be enraged at the attempts to break through those barriers around his old life.

"A deal?" Sam sounded so indignant that she could picture his expression without any effort. "This has to be a joke. He kidnaps you for weeks and then decides that bargaining is still on the table? What could he possibly have to offer that would excuse what he's done?"

Eleanor took a steadying breath. "He wants Captain Rogers to cease all search efforts indefinitely. If he doesn't get what he wants, he's going to kill me in front of you." Eleanor tried to make the words come out in a clinic tone to mask her anxiety, but the waver in her voice betrayed her.

Sam didn't respond for a few long seconds. She could practically feel the fury radiating through the telephone line. Sam was always so lighthearted and level headed, but if he took one thing serious in life, it was the safety of his friends. Eleanor knew it was a risk to even make such demands to him and expect that he would not try to retaliate against the soldier threatening her life, but she hoped the Captain would keep him from doing anything too drastic.

"If those terms will be met, he will agree to leave tonight so you can meet me here without a fight. He wants to put as much distance between the two of you and himself." The soldier leaned forward with a stern set to his jaw. He wanted her to wrap the conversation up and get an answer. "Those are his conditions. Do you accept?"

"Yes," Sam's response was immediate and without thought, as she knew it would be.

In the background, she could hear some muffled arguing which could only be Captain Rogers. Eleanor felt a stab of guilt in her stomach. This man was forced with losing his best friend all over again to save a girl he had only just met. The Captain was too moral to allow her to be killed, but his heart would desperately grasp at any compromise or loophole he could find to save his friend. Even muffled in the background, his words rang out with panic.

Some grunts and loud rustling broke out before a new voice spoke into the phone. "Eleanor, will he talk on the phone? Just for a few minutes? Tell him I won't try anything if he just gives me a minute." The desperation was enough to shatter her heart.

"Steve…" Eleanor started, knowing his request was futile. At the name, a deep growl from next to her startled her into almost dropping the phone. His hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, making her yelp. The metal hand twisted painfully, tears watering in her eyes. She met his eyes, wide panicked stare meeting his cold unblinking gaze. "No, he won't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't help him. He isn't Bucky anymore, Cap."

The soldier let out an angry roar and ripped the phone from her hand. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut at his shout. The phone smashed against the wall, pieces flying into broken shards and falling to the floor next to the bed. Eleanor could feel her breath quickening, but the oxygen wasn't enough. The panic was taking hold of her and she was unable to stop it. The tears had escaped and streamed freely down her face, hot against her flushed cheeks.

A pained cry made her eyes fly open to the soldier who was now on his knees a few feet in front of her. Both hands gripped his tangled hair and tugged as he bent forward as if in agony. He rocked back and forth, almost like a child trying to soothe itself. Every few seconds, he would jerk his head to the side erratically with another anguished cry. He mumbled a string over words rapidly under his breath. Eleanor felt the irrational urge to offer him some comfort, but fear kept her rooted to the spot.

"Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes. Sergeant. 32557….Sergeant….Barnes….." The soldier's low muttering gave way to a vicious growl. He brought his fist down onto the floor, sending dust and carpet fibers into the air in a cloud as the metal dented the cement flooring underneath. Eleanor said a silent word of thanks for the fact that their motel room was the furthest from the office in the empty motel; no one would come to investigate any sounds of violence and get caught in the soldier's angry cross-hairs.

Eleanor couldn't tear her eyes away from him. His frenzied fit had subsided, the only remnant of it was the gasping breaths that continued for a few long minutes. This was the weakest state she had seen the soldier in as of yet and the sight of it filled her with conflicting emotions. If this had been any other person, she would have rushed to his side to offer comfort immediately. The low slump of his shoulders and the shaky gasps every few seconds were a tangible measure of his defeated personality and Eleanor desperately wished to soothe him. An equal part of her was eyeing the door behind him, mere yards away and a beacon of freedom. He wasn't standing guard, waiting to grab her at the first sign of flight; perhaps this lapse in concentration was her only chance at escaping. He had agreed to let her go, but had that changed in light of his outburst?

She rose to her feet, her mind still not made up on what to do. Her knees shook as she willed her body to take a tiny step forward. The soldier made no signs of movement, but she could hear him mumbling as quiet as a whisper. "Barnes….Sergeant….3225….7038….."

One more step. A strangled gasp rang out and the soldier straightened on his knees, his back rigid and bending almost backwards. His hair covered most of his face, but underneath, his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched so tight that Eleanor was sure his teeth would crack. His body convulsed as if electricity ran through his veins, sweat pouring down his face. Eleanor froze, her own breath caught in her through. The soldier let out a choked scream before going limp; his body tipping backwards and hitting the floor with a heavy thump.

Without thinking, Eleanor rushed forward. She knelt at the soldier's side, her hands gently finding the back of his head. He had hit the floor so hard that his head cracked on the ground, but she could feel no blood or wound. His eyes remained closed, his breathing finally relaxing in his unconsciousness. Whatever that outburst had been, it was over now. There was no telling what would happen when he awoke, but until then, Eleanor vowed to show the soldier as much care as possible. She wanted him to know that not every interaction had to end in his pain at someone else's hands.

He was far too heavy for Eleanor to pick up, so she quickly snatched a pillow from the bed and tucked it under his head. She found a clean washcloth in the bathroom and soaked it with cool water, wringing out the excess before returning to her spot by his side. She gently brushed the damp hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. He hadn't washed the entire time she had been with him; it was another thing Hydra had not allowed him to do for himself and he probably had no idea how to do it. His hair was greasy and tangled under her fingers. Eleanor took the washcloth and lightly smoothed it over his forehead. The soldier sighed under the cool touch and Eleanor let out the tense breath she had been holding. She worked the cloth along his sharp jawline, wiping away the sweat and grime as gently as possible. When he made no signs of waking up, she went back to the bathroom to rinse the cloth before coming back to repeat on the opposite side of his face. His occasional relaxed sighs encouraged her to keep going. Even if he woke up and was angry at her actions, Eleanor felt compelled to help.

Once his face and neck were cleaned up, there was little else she could do with the damp cloth. He was still dressed in his Winter Soldier uniform, his body covered in body armour and away from her. She laid the cloth to the side, instead focusing her attention on his tangled hair. Her fingers worked through the strands, careful not to tug or snag on any of the knots. She found herself softly humming. It wasn't even a tune or melody, just the comforting hum that she had grown up hearing from her mother whenever Eleanor had skinned a knee or bumped an elbow. The low sound cut through the silence as she methodically ran her fingers through his hair, occasionally lightly grazing on his scalp in, what she hoped was, a soothing way.

Even after all the knots were taken care of, Eleanor kept running her fingers through his hair. Surely Sam and the Captain had traced her call and had been on their way for hours. They would be here any minute. The sun was going down outside, the light getting dimmer by the second through the closed curtains. The soldier had wanted to be long gone by the time the two men got there and now he would be unconscious at their arrival. Eleanor knew it would be a mind-blowingly huge success if they could manage to take him with them while he was out, but that was dangerous. At any point, if he woke up, the soldier would be enraged. The super soldier serum might save the Captain, but Sam and Eleanor would be vulnerable to his rage. It would be better if they couldn't trace the call altogether, but she knew better. The only thing left to do was wait and hope that the night didn't end in the bloodshed that played on a loop in her mind.

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 **I just want to say a big thank you to my readers. I got some WONDERFUL feedback for the last chapter and I really appreciate that people took the time to tell me their thoughts on the story. That is more helpful than you could ever know! Those reviews just make my entire day! Thank you! I hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Time seemed to fast forward as Eleanor listened for any changes in the soldier's breathing that could indicate he was about to wake. Muffled voices on the other side of the door made her heart speed up, the emotions behind the anxiety at odds with each other. Even through the wood door, she knew it was Sam and Captain Rogers without a doubt. This fact should have been a relief, and it _was_ , but it was also somehow heartbreaking. Her fears for her friends was just as terrible as the desperation she felt at the thought of this being their only chance to possibly help the man before her.

Eleanor knew Sam was sure to be passed thinking clearly through his anger, so she quietly hurried over to the door so he wouldn't knock it down and make a scene. The soldier continued to sleep, chest rising and falling raggedly from his spot on the floor. The door opened to reveal Sam a few steps away, bracing for the impact of his intentions to break the lock by force.

She held a finger up to her lips to silence the two men. They stood before her, puzzled and suspicious. She tilted her head slightly to the side to gesture behind her and watched as their eyes followed the motion to the man behind her. Sam clenched his jaw, eyes glinting wildly in rage, but he made no move to force his way into the room. The Captain was dressed in his Avengers uniform, shield held at the ready. He lowered his hand, defenses dropping at the sight of his friend. Even under the mask, his pain was etched all over his face.

Eleanor wasn't sure what to do. This had clearly not been the scenario the two men had envisioned for a rescue mission. Sam looked like he was out for blood with the way he was glaring daggers, but the Captain looked more than a little stunned at finally having his friend within reach after searching for him for so long. Eleanor saw the situation as a crossroads; she stood as a barrier between the two groups. Enemy against enemy. Friend against friend. Some mixture of the two that had been blurred throughout the decades.

"What do we do here, Cap?" Sam finally asked, keeping his voice low and quiet. Eleanor could hear the bitterness in his words. He wanted the soldier to pay for what he had done, not only to Eleanor, but to the people caught in the middle of the battle in DC. He wanted to take someone he saw as a threat out of the picture for good, but he also felt a strong loyalty to the Captain and wanted to do right by him.

Eleanor watched Captain Rogers' expression, the way his eyes never left the unconscious form on the floor behind her. He seemed to be in the midst of an internal battle. As Captain America, he should take the Winter Soldier in to face trial, if not eliminate the threat on the spot to save innocent lives. As Steve Rogers, he desperately wanted to save his childhood friend no matter the risk or consequences. He opened and closed his mouth to respond to Sam, but no words came out.

"We're helping him. What's the next step, Captain Rogers?" Eleanor found herself answering for him, making the choice that was torturing the man before her so blatantly. "We can still do this. He's going to be okay."

Sam made a small sound of dissent, shaking his head, "El, look at you. How can you want to help him? You said he didn't hurt you." His stare was accusing; the bruises on her face burned under his scrutiny.

"I'm fine, Sam," Eleanor brushed off, "He needs our help. I'm tougher than I look, remember? I don't need you to fuss over me. Let's just finish what we started and get him somewhere safe, okay?"

She moved to the side to allow the two men to walk into the room. They moved cautiously, as if tiptoeing around a rabid animal, which was closer to the truth than anyone wanted to say aloud.

"I think maybe he had a seizure or a fit of some kind. He was screaming and holding his head. It almost looked like he was being electrocuted. He kept saying the same things over and over. His name, rank, and number from when he was in the military, I think. Then he passed out and he hasn't moved since then," Eleanor explained.

Sam rooted around in a compartment in his pack and produced a set of silver restraints. They were similar to handcuffs, but more reinforced, probably intended for someone with heightened strength. "Okay, Cap, you restrain this bastard while I call this in to Stark. He can send an extraction vehicle that will hold him so we can get him to the safe house. If we would have known he was going to be here, we would have brought it with us instead of waiting around with assassin Sleeping Beauty here."

The Captain knelt down, restraints gripped tightly in his hand. Eleanor could see the faint tremor in his movements as he eyed the soldier for signs of a potential attack. The soldier's breathing continued in the same rhythm, shaky but unbroken.

One hand was almost encircled with the first device when a metal fist came up to rip them from the Captain's grip. The man on the floor let out a feral snarl and scrambled to his feet in a blink of an eye. Captain Rogers jumped up and got into a defensive position, moving his body to stand between the soldier and Eleanor.

"Bucky, please, I'm not going to hurt you," the Captain pleaded. "I won't even put these on you if you just come with us. We don't want to fight you." He had his shield held up in front of his body, but there was no move to make an attack of his own.

The soldier's eyes found Eleanor and narrowed at her from her spot behind his last mission. A shiver of fear ran up her spine at the raw anger in his expression. He no longer wore the blank expression of the assassin; his eyes flashed with betrayal and hurt, which was puzzling in contrast to his initial rage. The soldier turned his gaze back to the Captain, the anger appearing and being focused on a target.

"What have you _done_?" he snarled, charging towards the shield in front of him.

 **Sorry it has been a little while since the last update! I haven't given up on this, I promise. I'm just having a bit of a hard time getting from Point A to Point B how I have it planned out. Personally, I really hated this one, but I needed it to happen to get to where I want to go. I still hope this one wasn't** _ **too**_ **terrible, but I promise the next chapters will be better!**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Captain Rogers brought his shield up in front of him as the soldier crashed into him with a roar. A metallic echo reverberated into the air at the contact, the Captain grunting at the impact. Sam rushed in from outside at the sudden onslaught of noise and grabbed Eleanor by the wrist, pulling her from the room and out into the cool night. The sounds of the fight continued on inside. Eleanor shifted anxiously on her toes, an irrational urge to rush in to help despite the sheer disaster that would prove to be. Sam must have been able to sense the her unconscious thoughts to do so, holding a firm grip on her elbow to keep her rooted to the spot. He stood slightly in front of her, body tense in case the fight moved outside.

"I'm so sorry, El," Sam said through gritted teeth. "I _knew_ you should never have gotten involved in this shit. I should have made you stay home. This is all my fault. I should have kept my huge mouth shut when you asked me about all this. You shouldn't even _be_ here right now."

That made Eleanor huff in frustration, "I would have figured out a way to help with this either way. You're the worst at keeping secrets, especially from me. I can make my own choices, Sam. I knew what I was getting into from the very beginning. Don't blame yourself. I wanted to help Steve just as much as you did."

A loud crash rang out from inside. The sound of wood splintering and enraged snarling spilled out into the parking lot. A few of the rooms of the motel now had lights turning on as the occupants were woken by the disturbance. One quick look towards the motel office confirmed that the manager was on his cell phone with the police, worriedly looking in their directions but keeping his distance. It wouldn't be long before the police showed up and Eleanor was sure that the Winter Soldier would not react well to that. This needed to end soon. The noise inside was getting louder and more chaotic, less like a fight and more like a mauling from a wild animal in its brutality.

Sam was tense, leaning forward on his feet towards the two men inside. He was obviously itching to rush in and help his friend, but his protectiveness towards Eleanor prevented him from acting. Eleanor had a second to feel a pang of guilt that he was forced to choose at all, but another part of her was selfishly relieved that he was out of the immediate path of danger. Sirens began to howl in the distance, but Sam never looked away from the open doorway for even a second.

The glass of the room's window burst outwards in a spray as a body was hurled through it. Sam pushed Eleanor backwards, positioning himself in front of her to take the brunt of the flying glass. She let out a startled yelp as the body landed with a heavy thud a few feet from where they stood. Captain Rogers was quick to scramble back to his feet, shield still tight in his grip.

"Get her out of here," the Captain ordered, keeping his eyes in front of him as the Winter Soldier stalked out through the door. " _Go_ , Sam. We'll be right behind you. I can handle this."

The police sirens grew louder. Eleanor watched as the soldier stomped through the broken glass. Sam tightened his grip on her arm and spun around to face her. He pushed her backwards and out into the parking lot. To take off, he would need a little more space than their current position between the parked cars. Eleanor couldn't take her eyes off the former assassin as he blocked a hard throw from the Captain's shield with ease. The shield ricocheted off the metal arm and was deflected off in the opposite direction.

With the Captain forced to retrieve it, the soldier turned his attention towards the retreating forms of Sam and Eleanor. He let out a deep growl and marched towards them, eyes flashing in anger. His stare was zeroed in on Eleanor, burning into her as deep as a knife wound. She felt her feet get tangled up as her body went rigid under his focus. He looked at her like she was his target and he would not accept defeat in a mission ever again.

"Hold on." Sam wrapped one of his arms tightly around her waist, painfully digging into her side as the wings folded out of the pack. He bent down and kicked off hard from the ground.

Eleanor felt the pavement disappear from under her feet. Her heart pounded against the inside of her chest. The upwards momentum jerked violently backwards towards the ground, sending the two of them crashing into the hard pavement. Sam kept his hold on her upon impact, taking the worst of it before letting go and pushing Eleanor to the side to put himself back in front of the attacker. He shrugged off the now broken pack, the mangled wings clattering to the ground. Streams of blood ran in hot lines down her forearms and knees, the grit from the pavement digging into her skin. She pushed herself to her feet, lungs still stinging from having the wind knocked from them.

The soldier deflected the round of shots Sam sent in his direction. Eleanor ran around the cars to find the Captain laying on his back on the pavement. She rushed to his side, kneeling down to see his face bloodied and uniform torn. His chest continued to rise and fall, but no amount of coaxing to get him to wake up. He had been knocked cold; the serum would help him to heal quickly, but it did not make him immune to being hurt altogether.

"Eleanor, run! If Cap is down, I can't hold this guy off forever. Get the hell out of here. Stark will find you," Sam yelled, his voice strained from the fight.

The sirens were closer. Their blue and red lights bounced off the buildings at the far end of the street. Eleanor knew no amount of officers were going to be able to subdue the Winter Soldier. It would just end with more death and violence. The former assassin had been trained to never back down during a fight. He did not have protocols for showing mercy towards anyone who he perceived as a threat. All the faces of the people looking out their motel room windows at the fight were all in more danger than they could comprehend. Eleanor couldn't let that happen.

The Captain's shield lay forgotten a few feet away. She rushed to it, heaving the heavy object up despite the sharp pain in her bleeding hands. It was awkward to handle, clearly weighted to suit Captain America himself and not a woman of her stature, but she held it up as confidently as she could pretend to be. The soldier had fallen into some kind of episode that incapacitated him temporarily when he was triggered by memories back in the room. He had been confronted by the idea of Steve wanting to talk to him and by the sound of his own name. Maybe she could subdue him for long enough to get him restrained, or at least to keep him from hurting anyone else.

"Bucky!" Eleanor yelled, stepping around the side of a pickup truck to face him. She took a deep breath and straightened tall. She held the shield in front of her body in a childish mockery of the Captain America posters.

He threw Sam to the ground a few yards away and turned to look. His face paled as he staggered to a stop at the sight. Her grip on the shield trembled, but she didn't back down. Her heart hammered away, cursing herself for trying something as stupid as this. The soldier's eyes grew wide, confusion and fear made his brows furrow. She could see his mind racing to try to make sense of the situation, to formulate his response. His jaw suddenly tightened, his eyes wiped of emotion. His took a step towards her, shoulders hunched almost in a predatory stance.

"No," a voice shouted. Sam had gotten to his feet and raced up behind the soldier. He grabbed the assassin's real arm and twisted it backward, eliciting a howl of pain. "Don't you touch her!"

The first of the police cars squealed to a halt in the parking lot. The officers inside jumped out, taking cover behind their open car doors and shouting orders for everyone to get on the ground. The sirens and yelling almost drowning out the sound of Sam being slammed into the side of a car, falling to the ground.

The soldier stood over him, leaning down level with his face as he gripped Sam's throat with his hand. "You will _not_ take her from me."

Eleanor let out choked scream as the soldier knocked Sam over the head with the butt of his gun before letting his unconscious body tip over onto the ground. The police officers were screaming orders in the background, drawing their guns and aiming them at the soldier. Eleanor barely registered the chaos going around her as the soldier yanked her roughly in front of him, keeping her between himself and the increasing number of armed officers. The shield was ripped from her hands and tossed to the pavement, replaced by the metal arm that was now circled around her waist and forearms.

The soldier slowly walked her backwards. He kept his gun facing the line of police cars, ignoring their orders to let his hostage go free. She could hear his ragged breathing next to her ear, hot against the side of her face. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, but the soldier made no move to harm her; his grip carefully firm but not painful as he gently steered her backwards.

When enough distance was between them and the police, the soldier abruptly picked her up, one arm under her legs and the other cradling her upper back. He bolted, running with inhuman speed down an unlit alley. Eleanor gasped in shock at the change. The surroundings blurred around her as they rushed down side streets and backyards in the small town. Despite the speed, he kept her from smacking into anything when he gracefully scaled a chain link fence. He dropped to the ground with barely even a sound and ran to a parked car behind a bar. The window shattered from the force of one punch and he opened the door, throwing her lightly into the seat and dropping into the car behind her. Within seconds, the soldier hot-wired the car, engine roaring as he floored the vehicle out of the parking lot.

Eleanor turned backwards towards the sound of the sirens, but their route to the car had been winding and intentionally confusing to throw them off track. It had bought them enough time that the soldier grinned beside her as the red and blue lights flashed further and further off in the distance. She turned to stare at the man beside her, voice caught in her throat at his bizarre expression.

He met her gaze, still smiling oddly. "You're safe now, ma'am. I won't let those Hydra bastards hurt you."

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 **Fight scenes are a bit out of my skill range, so I hope this wasn't too dreadful. I'm loving being able to practice writing new situations like this that I haven't delved into yet as much in my other stories.**

 **I also just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. The feedback has been amazing and it really has been helping me figure out what works and what doesn't work when writing this story. Thank you for taking the time to do that!**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

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Eleanor stared at the soldier as the car sped down the dark road. His words repeated themselves on a loop in her mind. The cold tone of the Winter Soldier had been replaced with the lighter Brooklyn accent she recognized from a few short films in the Smithsonian exhibit. His smile had not disappeared, though it seemed like an unnatural shade of the one from the old pictures. Some switch had been flipped and Bucky Barnes was making an appearance, but it was still wrong. The ghost of his former self was still somewhere in the soldier, but it was not a true fit. He was too different after so many years and memory wipes; his body was going through what it thought were the motions to be Bucky Barnes, but the soldier's mind was still in there, still a dark shadow seeping into the corners of his personality.

"The army con you into joining that same program as Captain America, huh?" His voice was shaped by the smirk on his face, but the good-natured expression was at odds with the dark tone in the words.

Eleanor opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. The question was not quite a threat, but she didn't trust the huge smile on his face that did not quite meet his eyes as he glanced over towards her. Despite the shift in personality, there was somehow something more unsettling about the soldier now than there was before; at least before, she knew how dangerous he was. This change was unprecedented, but the threat was unquestionably still there.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," Eleanor said, carefully.

"Oh, I see. You're not supposed to talk about it," the man beside her joked. "Don't worry about that, doll. Steve Rogers is my best friend. I know all about the serum and that program he signed up for a while back. He has a shield just like the one you had back there. I figured that was just part of the uniform or something. I won't tell nobody. Wouldn't want a pretty dame like you getting court martialed, now would we?"

The words hit Eleanor like a freight train. This was the most the soldier had ever spoken, which should have been a sign of improvement, but this didn't feel like a good thing. He was falling back into his old personality, but his comprehension of what was going on around him was twisted. Instead of seeing the Captain's shield and recognizing it as belonging to his old friend, he thought it meant Eleanor had also taken the serum and was in the same program. The way he was talking, it seemed like he thought he was still in the 1940s. The danger of the assassin had been traded for the delusions of a man out of his time. Eleanor wasn't sure if it would be safer to play along with his perceived reality or to try to show him the truth.

"What's your name?" She wanted to get an idea of how much awareness of _himself_ the soldier was now regaining.

"The war must be taking my manners," he laughed, the sound of it years lighter than she would have expected. "Sergeant James Barnes. Most people call me Bucky though."

Eleanor felt the rise of hysterical laughter start to bubble up, but bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop it. This was everything the Captain had been hoping for; this was his best friend back from the dead and he was sitting a foot away, breathing and talking like nothing had happened. But for how long? How long would he still be this younger, happier version of himself before the Winter Soldier made another appearance? Was this shift permanent or was it something similar to a flashback, destined to come to a halting end? She had to take advantage of this side of the soldier before the opportunity was lost.

"Sergeant Barnes? I _have_ heard of you. I know Captain Rogers, you're right. He's told me a lot of good things about you. Are we going to meet with him now?" Eleanor prompted. The pit in her stomach deepened.

His brows furrowed, "Steve's in Italy with the rest of the unit." His expression creased in confusion.

Eleanor knew she needed to backtrack. Her words had stirred some contradicting memories for the soldier, who had adopted an expression of concentration as he struggled to make sense of everything. The car was still speeding down the dark road, his fingers clenched around the steering wheel as his breath grew ragged.

"You must have more information than I do, Sergeant. I'm afraid I've been out of communication with headquarters on a field assignment," Eleanor lied, hoping the words sounded convincing. Her throat was dry and sore from the effort of the lie.

The soldier looked uncertain, her story not helping to reassure his doubts. Eleanor felt her heart pounding at the same breakneck speed, hyper aware of every twitch and micro-expression that passed over his face. The last thing she wanted was for him to have another episode like the one back at the hotel. They could not afford for him to have a seizure or lose consciousness while behind the wheel.

He smoothed over his troubled expression with practiced ease, the cocky smirk fixed on his face. "Am I allowed to know your name? Or is that also a matter of national security?"

She couldn't stop the blush that crept down her neck. Eleanor had to admit, even this altered version of the old Bucky Barnes was charming. Terrifying and unpredictable, but the notorious charm was still ingrained somewhere in him. "Eleanor. It's nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes."

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 **I SWEAR I have not given up on this story! I know that was a very, very, ridiculously long gap in updates and I do apologize for that. I have been getting bad migraines again lately, so looking at the computer screen was a bit like looking at the sun for a while. I promise that the story has not been forgotten about though! Thank you for sticking with me during that short hiatus! I hope you liked this one! It is a bit of a filler chapter, but I need it as a transition to the next part of the story.**


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